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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22496476">something old, something new</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/artenon/pseuds/artenon'>artenon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 16:47:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,996</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22496476</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/artenon/pseuds/artenon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Vanilla Earl Grey. Should be just cool enough to drink.”</p><p>“Right,” Kei says. He takes the cup. “Because you knew exactly when I’d be here and therefore exactly when to set out the tea.”</p><p>It’s a joke, but it’s also a question. How? How is everything in Kuroo’s bakery so incredibly, impossibly perfect?</p><p>He sips the tea and it’s the perfect temperature, of course. The flavor complements the madeleine beautifully.</p><p>Kuroo shrugs and smiles. “What can I say, I’m magic.”</p><p>Same old deflection. Kei rolls his eyes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>259</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Kurotsuki Sweetheart Zine</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>something old, something new</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello! this was my piece for the Kurotsuki Sweetheart Zine! kurotsuki will always hold a special place in my heart, so it was an honor to take part in this zine. i also had the distinct pleasure of being able to collaborate with cai, who drew this amazing piece of artwork <a href="https://twitter.com/blacktreecle/status/1223321334022754304">HERE</a>!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There are other customers in the bakery when Kei arrives.</p><p>It’s an uncommon enough occurrence that Kei always feels the same unworked-through conflicted feelings: on the one hand, Kuroo owns a fantastic hole-in-the-wall bakery that is underappreciated and needs all the patronage it can get for the sake of its continued operation; on the other hand, Kei feels, with an undue sense of possessiveness, that this is <em>his</em> place.</p><p>It’s his second year living in Tokyo for university, and Kei still isn’t quite comfortable with the crowd and bustle of the city. When he first stumbled upon <em>Cats Knead Dough</em>, Kei mainly felt despair over the horrendous pun of a name. Now it’s his haven, second only to the comfort and privacy of his apartment. Kuroo is good company, and Kei doesn’t just say that because Kuroo is generous with his free samples.</p><p>He is generous, though.</p><p>The first time, a picture-perfect row of colorful macarons drew Kei into the bakery. He was inspecting them when Kuroo pushed his way into focus, overly friendly and asking Kei way too many questions about himself. Kei almost regretted coming in at all.</p><p>Then Kuroo gave him a strawberry macaron.</p><p>Kei is not usually one inclined towards phrases like “best ever,” but Kuroo’s macarons have to be the best he’s ever had.</p><p>There are two middle-aged women in the bakery today. They stand close, the hand of one resting gently in the crook of the other’s elbow as they both lean towards Kuroo behind the counter.</p><p>Kei tries to open the door gently, but there’s no stopping the attached bells from jingling. Kuroo glances over at Kei as he slips inside. He doesn’t stop talking to his customers, but Kei thinks Kuroo’s smile stretches a bit wider in that moment their eyes meet.</p><p>“So, check off all the flavors you want to sample, and we’ll schedule a date for the tasting…” Kuroo is saying.</p><p>Kei drifts over to the display at the far end of the counter. This section is filled with cupcakes, round mini cakes, and slices of larger cakes. They all look beautiful. That’s the thing about Kuroo’s bakes: they’re always so beautiful. The cake slices are all uniform in size, with distinct even layers, and the edges are smooth as can be, no stray crumbs to be seen. They’re perfect in the way that only fake display food can be, except it’s not fake. Months of patronage, and Kei still has no idea what Kuroo’s secret is. Whenever anyone asks, Kuroo just winks and says, “Magic.”</p><p>Kei can’t decide whether to be annoyed or charmed; either way, he’s given up on asking outright.</p><p>“Great, so I’ll see you both in two weeks!” Kuroo says, and Kei glances over.</p><p>The two women thank Kuroo and say goodbye. They each give Kei a polite nod on the way out, but it’s clear that their attention is wrapped up in each other. They laugh and lean into each other, already lost in their own quiet conversation, as the door swings shut behind them.</p><p>From behind the counter, Kuroo sighs a soppy sigh.</p><p>Kei turns to him and raises his eyebrows.</p><p>“They’re getting married in March.” Kuroo’s chin is propped in his hands, fingers curled against his cheeks, and his voice is dreamy. “They’re commissioning me to do their wedding cake. They have all these ideas for the design, we haven’t settled on one yet, but it’s gonna be gorgeous.”</p><p>“That’s amazing, Kuroo-san,” Kei says, genuinely. Then, “But you’ll be a puddle of goo before you can bake anything for them, at this rate.”</p><p>“<em>Love is a many-splendored thing</em>,” Kuroo says. He drops his arms to rest flat against the countertop and he leans forward with a smile, still a bit soppy at the edges. “Hi, Tsukkun.”</p><p>Kei ducks his head, the nickname sending a mess of butterflies through him even though it should be familiar by now.</p><p>It came about after Yamaguchi visited Kei in Tokyo. Kei had taken Yamaguchi along with him on his regular bakery run, and the next time Kei came in, Kuroo said, “I have to ask. ‘Tsukki’? You don’t seem like a nickname person.”</p><p>“Only Yamaguchi is allowed to call me that,” Kei told him. “Privileges of being my childhood friend.”</p><p>“Gotcha. Can I call you another nickname, then?”</p><p>That earned Kuroo a wary eyeful. Kuroo was right in his assessment; Kei was not—<em>is </em>not—a nickname type of person. With anyone else, Kei would have said no without a second thought.</p><p>To Kuroo, he said, “Depends. What do you have in mind?”</p><p>And Kuroo said, “Oh—oh, geez, okay. Give me some time to think on it.”</p><p>The next week when Kei came into the bakery, Kuroo said, casual as can be, “Good afternoon, Tsukkun!”</p><p>And Kei was too flustered to protest, if he was ever going to protest. Now Kuroo calls him “Tsukkun” almost exclusively. And it’s different. It’s so different from “Tsukki.” “Tsukki” happened because they were kids and “Tsukishima” was a mouthful and it just stuck over the years; Kei doesn’t think too much of it. There’s an intentional affection behind Kuroo’s nickname for him that Kei can’t hide from.</p><p>
  <em>Maybe I should stop trying to hide from it.</em>
</p><p>That’s a thought of a braver Kei, the Kei who sits at home replaying conversations and smiles in secret.</p><p>Never the Kei standing in Kuroo’s bakery several feet away from him.</p><p>Kei takes a breath. “Hi, Kuroo-san.”</p><p>Kuroo pushes back from the counter. “Got something for you.” He ducks down and comes back up with a paper muffin cup holding two chocolate-dipped madeleines.</p><p>Kei plucks one up and examines it, the perfect scalloped ridges, the even golden-brown coloration. Even the uneven line where the chocolate has dried looks artfully deliberate. When Kei bites into it, the cake is melt-in-his-mouth perfection.</p><p>It’s all to be expected from Kuroo, from the presentation to the taste, but some part of Kei is still so pleasantly shocked every time he takes his first bite.</p><p>“Well?” Kuroo says, but his smug grin tells all.</p><p>Kuroo is an amazing baker and he knows it.</p><p>“Not too bad,” Kei says.</p><p>He smirks in the face of Kuroo’s of mock-offense. He pops the rest of madeleine into his mouth and takes the second one.</p><p>“You gotta try it with—hold on—” Kuroo whisks off to the back of the bakery and reappears a moment later with a steaming cup of tea. “Vanilla Earl Grey. Should be just cool enough to drink.”</p><p>“Right,” Kei says. He takes the cup. “Because you knew exactly when I’d be here and therefore exactly when to set out the tea.”</p><p>It’s a joke, but it’s also a question. How? How is everything in Kuroo’s bakery so incredibly, impossibly perfect?</p><p>He sips the tea and it’s the perfect temperature, of course. The flavor complements the madeleine beautifully.</p><p>Kuroo shrugs and smiles. “What can I say, I’m magic.”</p><p>Same old deflection. Kei rolls his eyes.</p><p>He feels like he’s on such unsteady ground sometimes, with Kuroo. Kei likes to consider himself good at reading people, but there’s so much about Kuroo that he can’t quite put his finger on.</p><p>Kuroo takes pride in his baking, but he doesn’t want to grow his business. He doesn’t have a website and new customers either learn about him by word of mouth or by lucky accident. He doesn’t even have business cards. He makes most of his money through commissions and catering events, but insists on maintaining a storefront despite his reluctance to do anything to draw more walk-in customers. Kei has no idea what Kuroo does with all his unsold stock at the end of the day, but Kuroo claims it never goes to waste.</p><p>And then there’s the way Kuroo—well, the way he flirts with Kei. And Kei flirts back. And then there’s that moment, that moment where it becomes definite that they’re not just teasing, but actually flirting, and Kuroo stammers and withdraws and completely dodges any of Kei’s attempts to bring them back on track.</p><p>For the record, Kei is not doing a terrible job flirting. He swallowed his pride and told Yamaguchi all about it, and brought him along that one time. Afterwards, Yamaguchi said with confidence that Kuroo was definitely into Kei, and—</p><p>Actually, that entire conversation was mortifying and Kei would rather not remember it.</p><p>“So, a wedding cake,” Kei says. “You must be excited. Simple or intricate?”</p><p>“Not sure yet. They’d been thinking of something pretty minimalist, but now they’re considering some fancy chocolate work on the sides. I did an anniversary cake for their friends, that’s how they heard about me, and they said the chocolate latticework was the best they’d ever seen.”</p><p>Kuroo smiles a bit self-consciously in a way that somehow conveys both pride and humility, and Kei knows Kuroo must have been genuinely touched by the compliment, maybe even a little awed. He knows he’s a good baker, but he never expects anyone else to think so.</p><p>“I think I showed you the pic for that one?” Kuroo says.</p><p>“You did,” Kei says. The latticework <em>had</em> been impressive. It looked so delicate, it was a wonder Kuroo got it off the acetate sheet in one piece. “You like the challenge of intricate decorations.” It’s meant to be a question, or at least a guess, but it comes out sounding more like a statement of fact.</p><p>Kei is more of a fan of minimalist designs himself. He wonders if that would be the cause of a minor argument between them, when it came to their wedding cake design.</p><p>The abrupt realization that he just thought about <em>him and Kuroo having a wedding cake</em> freezes his lungs. Why on <em>earth</em>—</p><p>“Honestly, yeah. It’s fun, and super satisfying when it comes out well,” Kuroo says, somehow not noticing that for a brief moment Kei’s universe imploded and then got put back together again. “I’ll bet you like the clean minimalist look though, don’t you?”</p><p>Kei forces his lungs back into action. “You know me so well,” he says. And then, “What does your ideal wedding cake look like, then?”</p><p>He almost says <em>dream wedding cake</em>, but that’s just too much, and Kei is only one person. One person who likes the person he is talking to very much, and who has never actually been on a date with anyone before because most people he meets are annoying (his brother and Yamaguchi both say the problem is that Kei is unsociable; his brother and Yamaguchi are both wrong).</p><p>Kuroo’s face goes red in a slow bloom. “I’ve never—I haven’t really thought about it.”</p><p>“Really? But you’re such a romantic.”</p><p>Kuroo’s laugh is awkward and a little sad, and Kei abruptly feels terrible, even though he’s not sure what he’s said wrong.</p><p>“Sorry—”</p><p>“I am,” Kuroo says. “I really am such a romantic. And I definitely know what my ideal wedding cake looks like. I’m just, uh. Scared? That I’ll never get there with anyone.”</p><p>Kei’s mouth works faster than his shocked brain can process. “What’s scaring you? Because I—”</p><p>
  <em>I thought about marrying you for one second and liked it a little too much.</em>
</p><p>“Because I think you’re amazing,” Kei finishes, quiet. “And anyone would be lucky to have you.”</p><p>It’s still the most forward Kei has ever been in his life. And it’s terrifying, but here’s the thing: Kuroo is always encouraging Kei to be brave and to try new things and to not say no just because he’s scared. Granted, it’s usually for small or inconsequential things, like wearing a new color of clothing, but the point remains.</p><p>And he’s never thought of Kuroo as someone who wouldn’t take his own advice.</p><p>“I…” Kuroo’s eyes scan the ground.</p><p>“Sorry,” Kei tries, again. “It’s not my place to ask.”</p><p>“It’s just,” Kuroo says, a bit loud. They both wince, and he lowers his voice. “It’s just, you know how I always joke that I’m magic? Well… I actually am magic.”</p><p>And Kei—has no idea how to respond to that. So he doesn’t. He blinks a couple times, though.</p><p>“Don’t look at me like that,” Kuroo says. “Okay, it’d be easier if I just showed you. Come around to the back with me?”</p><p>Kei doesn’t know where this is going, and he doesn’t know what to do but follow as Kuroo gestures him around the counter and into the kitchen at the back of the bakery.</p><p>“Don’t forget your tea,” Kuroo says inanely, gesturing to it. “Although the temperature should still be okay.”</p><p>Kei’s eyes flick down to the teacup in his hand. A slow curl of steam rises from the liquid and when he takes a sip, it’s the exact temperature as before: pleasantly hot, just cool enough to drink.</p><p>Okay, maybe that’s weird.</p><p>In the kitchen, there’s a mess of fruits scattered across the countertops, and Kuroo says, “I was going to make a fruit tart later. I already finished the crust and the glaze, so I guess I’ll do the rest, well. Now.” He tilts his head at Kei. “Stand a bit back.”</p><p>“I don’t understand,” Kei says. Is Kuroo going to make an entire fruit tart right now? It’s going to take time to cut all those fruits; is Kei supposed to just stand and watch?</p><p>“You’ll see,” Kuroo says. “Just wait. And… please don’t run away?”</p><p>At <em>that</em>, a part of Kei definitely wants to run away, but there’s another part, a stronger part that roots him to the spot. The part that’s curious, the part that wants to know more, the part that wants to put his finger to Kuroo’s pulse and feel how it beats.</p><p>He watches as Kuroo putters around the space, gathering baking apparatus and some other ingredients. Finally, he situates himself in the center of the room, draws in a breath, and raises his hands like a conductor leading a symphony.</p><p>Kei almost drops his tea.</p><p>A metal bowl lifts itself into the air. Sugar, cream cheese, and vanilla pour into the bowl, and a whisk beats them together. Kuroo, his hands held aloft in the air, never touches any of it. He does keep glancing at Kei while worrying his bottom lip, and Kei knows he’s waiting for a reaction, but he can’t seem to summon any words to his tongue.</p><p>Kuroo twitches a hand and the filling pours into a piping bag, leaving none stuck to the walls of the bowl.</p><p><em>How non-wasteful</em>, Kei thinks distantly.</p><p>The assorted fruits spread across the countertop rise a few feet into the air. A knife dances up to them and starts slicing in quick, sharp flicks.</p><p>“Kuroo-san,” Kei finally manages to say, because the knife is moving rapidly and seems like a safety hazard.</p><p>Kuroo looks at him. He flicks his wrists and guides the knife along, his movements calm and practiced, but his eyes bore into Kei with nervous energy.</p><p>“I don’t think that knife is safe,” Kei says.</p><p>“Oh!” Kuroo smiles. “Don’t worry. I haven’t had a knife-related accident in years.”</p><p>Kei is alarmed that Kuroo has indeed had accidents in the past, and also that he felt the need to qualify his statement with <em>knife-related</em>. He should probably not talk and let Kuroo concentrate.</p><p>Still, something about Kei’s reaction seems to have eased Kuroo’s nerves, because he grins confidently at the forming tart in front of him.</p><p>The piping bag squeezes filling into the empty tart crust, starting from the center and working in tight circles outward. Sliced fruits spiral down—first a ring of strawberries along the edge, followed by kiwis, then mandarin oranges. Blueberries and raspberries fill in the middle.</p><p>And there is Kuroo, directing it all. Kei can’t decide which is more mesmerizing to watch: the gorgeous assemblage of the tart, or Kuroo, grinning and brilliant and larger than life.</p><p>A small bowl rises up to join the choreography, and a brush dips into it and spreads a glaze over the tart. Garnishing mint leaves drift gently down, and then the finished tart settles on a display stand with a gentle clatter.</p><p>Kuroo drops his arms with a satisfied sigh. When his eyes cut to Kei, he looks nervous again. “You want to try it?”</p><p>It takes Kei a minute to respond. “It needs to cool, doesn’t it?” he says eventually, because when he has no idea what to say, he can always fall back on logic.</p><p>“Oh, I did that already.” Kuroo rubs the back of his neck. “I can do that. Like with your tea.”</p><p>Kei curls his palm around his teacup. It’s warm in his hands. He looks back to Kuroo.</p><p>“You actually are magic,” Kei says.</p><p>“I actually am magic,” Kuroo says, and smiles, hesitant. “Is that okay?”</p><p>“‘Okay’? Kuroo-san, it’s incredible.”</p><p>Kei understands why Kuroo was scared, but now that he’s seen, Kei doesn’t know how he could feel anything but awestruck.</p><p>“You can take the tart home,” Kuroo says. “On the house. I was actually making it as practice for your birthday.”</p><p>“You don’t have to—”</p><p>“I really want to,” Kuroo says seriously.</p><p>Kei considers. “Do you cook?”</p><p>“What?” Kuroo looks thrown. “Uh, my magic doesn’t work as well on cooking. I don’t fully understand the science behind it—I have notes, if you’re curious. I can affect temperature and keep food from spoiling, but everything else works better with desserts. I <em>can</em> cook, though. Obviously, I need to eat. But I cook the old-fashioned way.”</p><p>“Okay,” Kei says. “Why don’t you come to my place on my birthday? You bring dessert; I’ll handle dinner.”</p><p>Kuroo’s mouth works for a good minute with no sound coming out. Finally, he says, “That. Would be great.”</p><p>“Okay,” Kei says again. “Kuroo-san.”</p><p>“Hm?” Kuroo looks like he’s still processing.</p><p>“Thank you for showing me.”</p><p>And then Kuroo melts into the softest smile. “Thank you,” he says, “for letting me.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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